


Sacrifice

by Rhode



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: (non sexual), Alternate Universe - Demons, Bondage, Complete, Consent under Duress, Demon Erik Killmonger, Don’t Like Don’t Read, Feeding, First Time, Idfic, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Panther Demon Sex, References to vore, Rimming, Scratching, Shapeshifting, Spanking, Virgin Sacrifice T'Challa, pseudo-bestiality, some days you just say ‘fuck literary merit’ and write a pure guilty pleasure idfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhode/pseuds/Rhode
Summary: T’Challa had always known that in his twentieth year, he would be sacrificed to the panther demon N'Jadaka by the rest of his people. It was his fate as the firstborn child of the King of the Panther Tribe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I remember when the movie first came out, and I was like: _I'm going to write a ton of fluffy fix-its! Erik needs LOVE!_
> 
> … And now I just write really trashy porn all the time. LOL. 
> 
> Don't worry, T'Challa doesn’t get killed or eaten. He just gets fucked a lot. 
> 
> Hard kink warnings & spoilers:
> 
> \- **Noncon** : Consent under duress. 
> 
> \- **Feeding** : brief description, not sexual or explicit.
> 
> \- **References to vore/ fear play** : T'Challa spends most of the fic convinced that he will be killed and eaten. 
> 
> \- **References to bestiality** : Erik rims T'Challa once after shapeshifting into his panther form. He’s a fantasy panther demon. No real animals are involved.
> 
> Most of the smut/kink will be in the next chapter.

T’Challa had always known that in his twentieth year, he would be sacrificed to the panther demon N'Jadaka by the rest of his people. It was his fate as the firstborn child of the King of the Panther Tribe.

His sacrifice would placate the demon N'Jadaka, who ruled their lands, and ensure that N'Jadaka blessed the Panther Tribe with abundant harvests for an entire generation. Otherwise, the demon would wreak havoc by sending plagues, pests and natural disasters to befall the whole of Wakanda. A virgin sacrifice of royal blood was the only way to avoid N'Jadaka’s wrath.

This was how the Panther Tribe had done it for a thousand years past, and how they would do it for a thousand years hence.

As the night of the Harvest Moon drew closer, the preparations for the sacrifice ritual were stepped up. T'Challa was subjected to a strict daily exercise regimen - push-ups and weight exercises to strengthen his muscles, yoga and calisthenics to build his flexibility, squats and leg raises to tone his ass. Every day, morning and night, his attendants bathed him in fragrant water infused with oat milk and flower petals to smoothen and soften his skin. Coconut oil was then massaged into his wet curls to keep them soft and moisturized. And the number of Dora Milaje guards placed on him were doubled.

The duties of the Dora Milaje guards were twofold - first, to protect the tribute’s life and good health until it was time for him to be sacrificed, and second, to chaperone the offering and ensure that he remained a virgin until the time of the sacrifice. For this reason, only women of unimpeachable character were allowed to become one of the Dora Milaje, to eliminate the chances of the sacrifice being raped by a lusty male guard and thereby made worthless as an offering.

T'Challa's mood became worse and worse as the night of the Harvest Moon approached. The idea of being at best, deflowered and at worst, torn apart and eaten by the cruel, capricious demon scared him senseless.

Occasionally, he would daydream about somehow shaking off his guards and escaping into the wilderness beyond the Tribe’s lands to lead a life of his own. But T'Challa knew that if he did so, he would just doom his precious baby sister, the Princess Shuri, to become the sacrifice instead. And escaping with Shuri was out of the question. He would never be able to keep himself and his infant sister alive out there in the jungles full of death traps and dangerous beasts.

Resigned to his fate, T'Challa went along with the orders of his handlers and guards. He dutifully ate what he was told to eat, exercised when he was told to exercise, and did his best to appreciate the little luxuries that he was granted: the massages to keep him pliant and relaxed, the melodious songs and chants to purify his soul, the rare delicacies that were given to him to sweeten the taste of his flesh.

 _They’re fattening me up for the demon,_ T’Challa thought. _Making sure that I provide a proper feast._

Horror made his stomach roil, his food taste like ashes in his mouth. But he had to swallow it all down under the cold, watchful eyes of the Dora Milaje.

All too soon, the day of the ritual sacrifice arrived.

* * *

T'Challa’s heart hammered as he was led up to the temple of N’Jadaka. His legs were so weak with fear that it was difficult to put one foot in front of the other, knowing that each step he took was bringing him closer to his almost-certain doom.

T’Challa was flanked on both sides by a contingent of armed Dora Milaje, who were there to keep the crowds back and also to make sure that he didn’t try to escape. The streets were lined on both sides with cheering people, here to catch a final glimpse of their Prince before he was sacrificed. It seemed like the whole of Wakanda had turned out for this once-in-a-generation event.

It was hard for T’Challa to try to appear dignified in front of the entire country while trying to hold back his tears. But he almost managed it, up to the point where he came face to face with the rest of his family for the final time.

The royal family were gathered together, waiting for him at the base of the temple steps. His parents, King T'Chaka and Queen Ramonda, were dressed in their finest robes, and his mother was carrying his baby sister Shuri in her arms.

Both of his parents were stony-faced and expressionless. For as long as he could remember, T'Challa's parents had been cold and remote towards him. They knew that if they got too attached to their son, it would make it all the more painful when it came time to offer him up to N'Jadaka.

His sister, however, was too young to know any better. She reached out towards him with her short chubby arms, babbling in delight to see T'Challa, completely unaware that this could be the last time that she ever saw her brother again.

T’Challa bent down to kiss her on the forehead. “Bye, Shuri,” T’Challa whispered as he ran his fingers through her hair, his voice cracking with emotion. A single tear finally spilled over before he could blink it away, making its way down his cheek.

“Good luck,” his mother said to him quietly. Her voice was shaky.

King T’Chaka just nodded at him, his lips pressed tightly together.

T’Challa went up the steps into the temple.

* * *

The temple of N’Jadaka was usually crowded with worshippers. But today it was empty, save for two elderly temple attendants and the chief priest, Zuri, who had overseen the ritual sacrifice of the last three generations of Panther Tribe royalty. 

The attendants immediately stripped T’Challa naked and rubbed him all over with heated, scented oil. They trimmed his hair and his beard, and washed his face and body for the last time. Finally, over T'Challa's vocal, embarrassed protests, they made T'Challa bend over the altar and spread his cheeks apart.

T'Challa yelped as he felt the tip of a slicked finger pressing against his entrance. He immediately let go of himself and tried to stand up, but the other two attendants were strong enough to hold him down and force him back into position.

“It will hurt less later if you cooperate now,” Zuri told T'Challa ominously.

T'Challa whimpered but bowed his head and did as he was told, feeling completely humiliated. He had been strictly forbidden to even _think_ about touching himself back there, much less allowing someone else to do that to him. And now…

He shuddered as the attendant’s oiled finger probed shallowly into him again, slicking him up inside with the lubricant. It didn't hurt, exactly, but the unfamiliar intrusion still made him wince and clench down instinctively

“That's enough. Don't stretch him out too much.”

Presumably to keep him nice and tight for the demon to fuck. T'Challa felt his heart sink into his stomach. Any lingering doubts he had about what was going to happen to him had just been eliminated.

The attendants let go of his arms. Flushed with embarrassment, T'Challa scrambled to stand up, unable to meet their eyes.

Then, the attendants helped T'Challa dress in the flimsiest gauzy outfit that he had ever seen in his life. Loose-fitting, completely sheer pants, with no top. No underwear. Nothing to even keep up a pretense of modesty.

T'Challa trembled in shame. He had never been dressed so provocatively in his life. The pants were completely see-through and hung loosely on his hips, ready to slide off with one quick tug. T'Challa wanted to cover himself up with his hands, but he knew that it would all be futile in the end.

The finishing touch was the placement of golden chains around T'Challa's wrists and ankles. They were locked to a solid, fanged golden collar around his neck. The chains were slack enough to allow quite a lot of movement, but escaping was out of the question - he would just trip and fall if he tried to run. The chains at his ankles were only slack enough to let him take small steps.

The preparations now complete, T'Challa was guided to the centre of the temple. A large tapestry had been placed in the centre of the marble floor. An intricate, dark red hexagram was woven into the middle of the tapestry.

“Kneel in the centre. Arch your back and touch your forehead to the floor.”

Trembling, T'Challa got on his knees. To his horror, he realized that the position he was currently in - knees down, hips raised - was perfect for putting his ass on display.

He could hear the sound of the attendants’ footsteps retreating as they made their way out of the temple, leaving T'Challa all alone.

Alone, at the mercy of N'Jadaka.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of accuracy, I did some research on panther reproductive systems before writing this chapter. What I found out sounded so completely unsexy that I decided Erik will just have a standard-issue human cock D;
> 
> **Warnings:**  
>  \- Erik is a lil rough with T’Challa - there’s some scratching, biting, spanking, etc. Otherwise T’Challa is unharmed.  
> \- This chapter contains bestiality/pseudo-bestiality, i.e Erik rims T’Challa when he’s in panther form.

There was a howling gust of cold wind. An unearthly chill swept through the room, making T'Challa's hair stand on end.

_He's here._

T'Challa squeezed his eyes shut tightly, digging his shaking fingers into the soft threads of fluffy carpet beneath him.

_N'Jadaka is here… in the temple with me…_

There was the sound of heavy footsteps approaching him. The ambient temperature in the room dropped, the chill getting more intense as the demon approached him slowly, step by step.

T’Challa bit himself hard on the lip to keep from screaming. He pressed his forehead to the ground, his breath coming out in soft, shallow gasps. It was taking all of his willpower to remain in his kneeling position with his back arched, when all he wanted to do was flee in terror. Part of him even wished that he had been chained up to _something,_ immobilized in place - at least then he wouldn’t have to force himself to remain still.

A hand landed on the curve of his ass. T’Challa froze, hardly daring to breathe.

The demon’s hand was surprisingly warm. It was large enough to cover both cheeks of his ass at once. The demon kneaded and squeezed his ass through the sheer gauzy pants as T’Challa trembled and whimpered at the intimate touch.

He even had _claws._ T'Challa could feel the edge of N’Jadaka’s claws digging lightly into his soft skin. The sheer fabric of T'Challa's pants tore easily with a _snick,_ ripping open as N'Jadaka raked those sharp little points over the seat of T’Challa’s pants, tearing them to shreds.

T’Challa was so terrified that his heart almost stopped. Shaking in anticipation, sweat dripping down his brow, he waited for the demon’s claws to sink in deeper, to pierce and tear and maul his flesh -

It didn't come.

Instead, the hand was suddenly lifted, then came down sharply on his ass. The loud slap rang out through the entire temple as his cheeks quivered under the blow.

T’Challa shrieked out loud before he could stop himself. The slap actually hadn’t even hurt that much, but he was so on edge, adrenaline flooding his body and singing through his nerves, that N’Jadaka’s hand had felt like a hot brand against his oversensitive skin.

Behind him, there was a deep, amused chuckle as N'Jadaka smoothed the flat of his palm over T’Challa’s ass. N’Jadaka spanked him again before the sting of his first slap had faded, drawing another short, startled cry out of T'Challa.

“Can’t even take a bit of pain? Spoiled little prince.” The demon’s tone was dark and mocking.

Tears blurred his vision as T’Challa fought back a sob. He knew that he _would_ have been able to take it without flinching, if N'Jadaka had just given him a bit of warning first. The smacks stung, but the pain was already starting to fade away into a tingling warmth that suffused his skin.

T'Challa whimpered as N'Jadaka patted his ass again. He took a deep breath and braced himself for another stinging slap, but to his surprise, it didn't come.

“Stand up, human. Let me see your face.”

T’Challa scrambled to obey. He almost tripped over the golden chain around his ankles as he tried to get to his feet, but then the demon's hands were on his shoulders, keeping him steady.

T'Challa looked up into the face of the demon for the first time.

_Goddess save me…_

N'Jadaka was so devilishly handsome. Dark skin, strong chiseled jaw, short dreadlocks messily piled on top of his head. Little golden fangs peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he gave T'Challa a slow, filthy smirk. The only sign of his supernatural origins were his eyes. His irises shone with a deep, burnished gold, reflecting light like the eyes of a jungle cat.

He was also naked.

T'Challa's eyes widened as they ran down the demon’s muscled chest, dotted with raised circular scars, taking in the sight of his solid abs, his extremely large -

T'Challa flushed hotly, averting his eyes.

A knowing grin spread across N'Jadaka's face. “Like what you see?”

“You don't -” T’Challa blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Don't what?”

“You don't look like what I expected,” T'Challa confessed in a small voice, desperately hoping that N'Jadaka wouldn't get angry. His eyes flicked to the statues and paintings of N'Jadaka placed around the temple, all of which showed a monstrous, hulking, demonic figure with a horned fiery panther skull for a head and wickedly long claws, his body wreathed in oozing shadows. When he was a young child, looking at N'Jadaka's demonic visage had scared him so badly that he had almost thrown up.

To T'Challa's confusion, the handsome man before him looked nothing like that. If not for the golden eyes which betrayed N'Jadaka's supernatural origin, he could easily have passed for a very attractive human.

N'Jadaka laughed. “All that is just to scare the humans. I can look like whatever I want.”

He hooked the tip of a clawed finger under T'Challa's chin, tilting it up so that he could examine T’Challa more closely. The demon’s golden eyes burned into T’Challa’s own as the tip of his clawed finger traced the outside of his T'Challa's plush lips, stroking along his jawline - dangerously, _scarily_ close to T'Challa's neck.

T'Challa gulped, holding himself as still as possible even though he was quivering internally in fear. One quick twist of that wicked claw and N'Jadaka could slice open his jugular, spilling his lifeblood.

Thankfully, N'Jadaka didn't seem to be in a murderous mood. Yet.

“Your name,” N'Jadaka ordered.

“T’Challa,” T’Challa whispered shakily. “T'Challa Udaku.”

N'Jadaka licked his lips hungrily. T’Challa’s eyes anxiously followed the motion of his sleek pink tongue.

“Mmmm… very nice,” N'Jadaka purred, looking at T'Challa like he was a tasty morsel to be devoured.

T'Challa's knees almost gave out in fear. “Please,” he begged, his voice coming out in a quiet, fearful whisper. “Don't eat me, please.”

N'Jadaka didn't always kill and eat the sacrifices. For reasons only he knew, the demon would occasionally let one of the sacrifices leave the temple alive the following day. This happened so infrequently - less than once every hundred years - that T'Challa had never allowed himself to hope that he would be spared.

But no amount of steeling himself to meet his doom could have prepared him for the reality of coming face to face with a hungry demon. Tears welled up in T’Challa’s eyes and he blinked quickly, trying to clear them away.

“Aww,” N'Jadaka cooed. There was a dark purr of laughter in his voice. He gently brushed away the tears clinging to the edge of T’Challa’s eyelashes with the pad of his thumb, a surprisingly tender gesture. “How cute. Don’t think you can get out of this by batting your eyelashes at me.”

N'Jadaka leaned forward, so close that his face was just inches away from T'Challa's. T'Challa stared at him, eyes wide.

“I'll make you a deal,” N'Jadaka said with a smirk. “The same offer that I've made to all the other sacrifices. If you can keep me amused for one entire night, I'll let you walk out of this temple alive when the sun rises. But if you bore me… ”

The demon's golden canines suddenly lengthened, becoming long, wickedly sharp fangs. Rows of sharp, jagged teeth erupted in his mouth. N’Jadaka’s handsome features melted away as his face seemed to collapse in on itself, transforming into a grinning, horned skull.

With a cry of terror, T'Challa flinched back. His hands came up automatically to fend N’Jadaka off, but the golden chains around his wrists only allowed him so much movement. There was an uncomfortable choking sensation as the movement of his chains made the collar around his neck go taut, and he froze, arms half-up and out before him.

N'Jadaka laughed as his face returned to normal. “Don't worry, little prince. You're doing well so far. I like you! You've got the whole innocent thing going on. Ruining it is going to be so much _fun.”_

T'Challa gulped. His heart was still pounding so fast that his chest almost hurt, but he knew that he had no other choice if he wanted to survive this night and go back home to his sister.

“Yes,” T'Challa whispered, gathering up his courage. “I accept. I'll do anything - anything you like. I'll try to be… _interesting -”_ his voice trembled. “- and then you'll let me go free in the morning?”

“That's it, darling,” N'Jadaka purred.

And then he leaned forward, capturing T'Challa's lips in a searing kiss.

It was hot and filthy, the demon's lips bruisingly fierce against his own. T'Challa gasped breathlessly at the feeling of N’Jadaka’s mouth on him, the way the demon nipped at his bottom lip, the way the demon’s tongue invaded his mouth. N’Jadaka’s arms were warm and firm around him as he drew T’Challa close to his chest. His hands wandered down his waist to cup and squeeze possessively at T’Challa’s ass, making him squirm.

The entire kiss was so intense that T’Challa felt his knees go weak. He had never even been kissed like this in his life. Hell, he had never even been kissed by _anyone_ before this - his Dora Milaje chaperones had always been extremely vigilant, making sure no other man had the opportunity to despoil him before the time came for him to be sacrificed.

T’Challa was flushed and breathless by the time N’Jadaka finally let him up for air. He licked his bottom lip, trying to soothe away the sting from where he’d been bitten. Thankfully, N’Jadaka hadn’t nipped him hard enough to draw blood.

“Damn, this is a good look on you,” N’Jadaka said, amused. “You’re real cute like this. All bright-eyed and blushing. Now…”

He pounced on T’Challa, knocking him flat onto his back. T’Challa yelped in surprise as his ass hit the carpet. Disoriented, he looked up into N’Jadaka’s smirking face as N’Jadaka slowly grinded down against him. The feeling of hundreds of raised, bumpy scars brushing against his skin made him shiver.

 _Like a cat,_ T'Challa thought dizzily. _Crouching over its prey._

He squirmed as N’Jadaka continued to kiss and lick him, this time along his jawline, down his neck. As N’Jadaka’s warm, wet mouth descended on his nipples, he clenched his hands into fists and bit his lip, trying not to whimper. The demon’s wickedly sinfully tongue swirled around each little nub, teasing it to hardness.

His eyes widened as his cock beginning to harden. A breathless moan escaped his lips, and T’Challa felt his face grow hot with embarrassment.

“Mmm,” N'Jadaka purred. “You like that, baby? No one ever touched you like this before, huh?”

“Ah, I -” T’Challa stammered, unwilling to admit just how much the demon was affecting him.

N’Jadaka grinned. “Let me take all this off.”

His eyes flared with golden light, and the chains around T’Challa’s wrists and ankles fell apart with a soft _clink._

“I’m gonna leave the collar on. It looks good on you.” N’Jadaka rubbed the thin golden band around T’Challa’s throat, then turned his attention to T’Challa’s pants.

His pants were already almost in shreds, but N’Jadaka still wasn’t satisfied. With a flex of his sharp claws, he tore them all the way off.

T’Challa cried out and flinched as the tips of the demon’s claws scraped against his skin. Pain burned along the lines where N’Jadaka’s claws had sunk in a little too deep. He slapped a hand to his hip, wincing as he ran his fingers along the raised scratch marks. His fingers came away smudged with dark red blood.

“Humans. So fragile,” N’Jadaka sniffed. “Relax, I’ll heal you after we’re done. It’s more fun with a bit of pain.”

T’Challa bit his lip, distressed. Pain didn’t sound _fun_ at all to him, but he didn’t want to annoy N’Jadaka by protesting too much. Besides, he had already promised to be obedient and do whatever the demon wanted. He just hoped that N’Jadaka didn’t hurt him too badly.

Thankfully, N’Jadaka wasn’t interested in tormenting him further. He crouched down, closing his mouth over T’Challa’s exposed cock.

T’Challa gasped, his toes curling into the carpet. The sensation of N’Jadaka swirling his tongue around the head of his cock was so intense that he could only whimper and squirm, his hands coming up to tug at N’Jadaka’s locks.

N’Jadaka expertly bobbed up and down on his cock, cheeks hollowing in and out as he sucked hard, in and out, in and out.

“N-N’Jadaka - please - ”

T’Challa’s breath quickened as he arched upwards, his hips thrusting into N’Jadaka’s skilled mouth. At the back of his mind, there was still the nagging worry that N’Jadaka would suddenly change his mind and tear him to pieces, but as N’jadaka’s soft, wet tongue expertly lapped up and down his cock, he could feel himself coming close to the brink of climax. That edge of danger which came from knowing that N’Jadaka could kill him at any moment just served to heighten the experience, making his senses even keener, even sharper as adrenaline flooded through his body. Even the colours in the room seemed more intense than normal as he gazed up at the high, arched ceiling, decorated with a giant painting of N’Jadaka himself, in his black panther form, chomping down on some hapless human.

_This was fucked up._

But T’Challa was still just a man, and he couldn’t help responding to the sight of the demon’s lips sliding over his now painfully-hard cock, the sensation of N’Jadaka’s warm, wet mouth. The way his breath ghosted over T'Challa's groin, claws lightly scraping on the inside of T'Challa's thighs and his balls, this time taking care not to scratch too hard. T’Challa’s moans were becoming more desperate now as he thrust upwards into N’Jadaka’s mouth whenever he pulled off slightly, chasing the warm suction.

N’Jadaka tightened his grip on T’Challa’s inner thighs, claws digging in just enough to draw blood as he swallowed again around T’Challa’s cock.

_“Ah!”_

T’Challa cried out, coming hard enough that his vision momentarily went black. His cock jerked, sending hot spurts of come into N’Jadaka’s mouth as he trembled, panting for breath.

To T’Challa’s surprise, N’Jadaka swallowed it all down and licked his lips lewdly, as if it was a delicious meal.

“Mmmm,” N’Jadaka purred. “Delicious.”

T’Challa flushed hotly. His inner thighs throbbed. His cock still throbbed too, and he felt completely boneless and exhausted, as if he had just finished one of his exercise rounds. He turned his head to the side and rested his cheek against the soft carpet, too embarrassed to meet N’Jadaka’s eyes.

N’Jadaka laughed. “Aww, little prince. Why so shy? You were doing great just now. Don’t hide from me.”

He gripped T’Challa’s chin in his hands, tilting T’Challa’s head up to meet his eyes - eyes which were bright and teasing, shining gold.

T’Challa swallowed. His heart was still pounding fast, but the demon didn’t seem so threatening now as he gazed up into N’Jadaka’s handsome face, eyes crinkled with amusement. He allowed himself to be kissed by N’Jadaka again, sloppily this time, wincing a little at the salty, almost-bitter taste of his own come on N’Jadaka’s tongue.

N’Jadaka spread T’Challa’s legs apart with his knees. T’Challa went pliant, letting his limbs be arranged to the demon’s liking. His heart rate quickened, knowing what was coming next. He just prayed that it wouldn’t hurt too much. It had been bad enough to be fingered by the priests when he was being prepared earlier, and N’Jadaka’s cock was so much bigger and thicker than that. He couldn’t help but shiver in fear and anticipation, trapped under the demon’s body.

N’Jadaka noticed his apprehension. “Relax, darling. You’re gonna like it. Just lie back and spread your legs.”

He lined up the tip of his cock with T’Challa’s oiled entrance, then entered him in one slow thrust.

T’Challa gasped at the deep, intimate stab of pain as N’Jadaka’s cock stretched his virgin hole open. N’Jadaka was so long and thick that he felt as if he were being split in two. He clenched down hard instinctively, forcing a grunt out of the demon. Helplessly, his fingers scrabbled at the broad expanse of N’Jadaka’s back as N’Jadaka began to thrust in, heedless of T’Challa’s whimpers of pain.

“It’ll hurt less if you relax, darling.”

N'Jadaka rolled his hips, opening T'Challa up even further as T'Challa bit back a scream. Tears burned in his eyes. Relax? How could he relax? It hurt so bad that he had to pant for breath, as each stab of N’Jadaka’s cock deeper into him seemed to punch the breath out of his lungs. If this was how sex felt like, he had no idea why the Dora Milaje had always chaperoned him so strictly. Only some sort of deranged masochist would willingly seek this out for _fun -_

N’Jadaka’s cock suddenly brushed against a spot deep within T’Challa that made him see stars.

T’Challa squirmed, letting out a small _‘oh’_ of surprised pleasure. The demon began to relentlessly grind against that sensitive spot, each time making T’Challa moan out loud.

_Too much - it was too much -_

The pain was starting to fade as he adjusted to the sensation of being impaled, fucked open. His pleasure built each time N’Jadaka’s cock dragged along his sensitive inner walls, pounded against his sweet spot. N’Jadaka’s pace was picking up, and his thrusts were coming faster now. Harder. Each thrust was hard enough to jerk his entire body forward, even as N’Jadaka’s hands gripped his hips tightly, making him take his cock ever deeper.

T’Challa sobbed, tears finally spilling over again. Pleasure and lingering pain mingled, the fear of being torn apart still ever-present at the back of his mind. He buried his whimpers into N’Jadaka’s shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as his entire body was wracked with successive waves of pleasure. His cock rubbed against N’Jadaka’s abs with each thrust, the delicious friction sending tingles of pleasure up his spine.

So close - he was so close -

“N’Ja - N’Jadaka,” T’Challa whimpered, the breathless plea falling without conscious thought from his lips. He knew the demon was close to coming now, as his thrusts became more erratic. Hungry anticipation curled through T’Challa’s entire body, from his curling toes to his arched back to his tightly clenched fingers.

“Yeah, darling,” N’Jadaka growled in T’Challa’s ear. _“Come.”_

The dark, authoritative order pushed him over the edge. T’Challa cried out, squirming as his climax ripped through his body again, his muscles tensing and spasming around the hot thick cock within him, pulsing as it filled him up with hot come.

He whimpered when N’Jadaka eventually pulled out, clenching down tightly against the emptiness. The demon smirked down at T’Challa, amused at his neediness.

T’Challa flushed again and averted his gaze from N’Jadaka, knowing how much the demon enjoyed teasing him. Fatigue overtook him, and he let his eyelids flutter shut.

His eyes flew open when N’Jadaka slapped him sharply on the inner thigh, making him yelp.

“Tired already?” N’Jadaka said, grinning. “It’s not even midnight yet. Turn over on your stomach.”

“Wait, _again?”_ T’Challa said in disbelief. “I can’t, I - ”

He broke off, suddenly recalling his promise to keep N’Jadaka amused all night. T’Challa bit his lip, forcing himself to remain silent.

“Good boy. Don’t argue with me.” N'Jadaka smirked. He rolled T’Challa over onto his front. T’Challa winced as his sore cock dragged against the soft carpet.

“Wait! Let me up.”

He got onto all fours, knees pressing into the carpet. N'Jadaka gave an approving hum from behind him as he dragged T'Challa into his cock again.

T'Challa flinched as N'Jadaka's cock slid into his hole. He was wet and loose enough that it barely hurt this time round, but he was still so oversensitive and exhausted that the entry made him flinch. This time the angle of penetration was deeper, as N'Jadaka pressed his chest down, causing his back and ass to arch up.

N'Jadaka began pounding into him immediately, not even bothering to go slow this time. The wet slapping sounds of their coupling filled the temple, punctuated by T'Challa's high-pitched moans.

N'Jadaka really was insatiable. T'Challa resigned himself to serving as the demon's plaything for the night.

* * *

T’Challa wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All he knew was that he had come so many times that his cock felt rubbed raw. His hole felt so sore that each thrust made him bite his lip in agony.

N'Jadaka finally withdrew from him again, but T’Challa knew that he was only temporarily satisfied.

“Please… Let's take a short break,” T'Challa pleaded, widening his eyes appealingly. He knew that he was risking his life doing so, but he was just too sore to take another round. Tears of desperation welled up in his eyes.

N'Jadaka blinked down at him. Then suddenly, he transformed. A huge black panther now stood before him, with its eyes glowing gold and long, curving fangs glinting wickedly in its open maw.

T'Challa shrieked in terror and scrambled backwards, all his fatigue instantly dissolving away. There was a sharp internal stab of pain as his ass hit the floor.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't eat me!”

The panther fixed a golden-eyed glare at him. “Stop being so dramatic, human. Shut up and lie back.” The order was given in N'Jadaka's voice, and sounded extremely incongruous coming from the mouth of a giant panther.

“N-no…” T'Challa protested weakly.

N’Jadaka prowled closer to him. “I said _lie down.”_ The last word was emphasized with a downward swipe of his front paw, knocking T'Challa flat onto his back.

N'Jadaka crouched over him, settling his weight against T'Challa's chest, preventing T'Challa from being able to wriggle away. Too scared to try and struggle away, T'Challa squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting his doom. Waiting for the panther’s fangs to rip him apart.

Instead, a rough, wet tongue licked a stripe up the side of his neck.

T’Challa squeaked in surprise at the warm, wet sensation, his entire body twitching. There was a snort of laughter from above him, and then N’Jadaka got to licking him in earnest, making him squirm and giggle.

_Grooming?_

He had seen their house cats do this - licking themselves fastidiously, washing themselves all over. At that time, T'Challa had thought that it was cute.

N'Jadaka's licks were slow and deliberate, just like his house cats. But there was something different. There was a tingling sensation whenever N'Jadaka licked over a shallow scratch or bite mark, followed by a pleasant warmth as his skin knitted together, the wounds magically healing over in an instant.

T’Challa sighed in pleasure. It felt really good to be groomed like this. Strange, but almost… comforting. It felt as if he was snuggling under a soft, warm, furry blanket, one that had magic healing powers.

Hesitantly, T'Challa reached up to pet the panther’s smooth black fur, and was rewarded with a deep purr which rumbled through his entire body. N'Jadaka nuzzled his nose against T'Challa's skin, before licking at the scratches on his hip.

“Good kitty,” T'Challa said tentatively. His house cats had liked to hear that too. T'Challa reached up a hand to scratch lightly at the top of the panther’s head.

There was another short purr in response, followed by a snort of laughter from N'Jadaka. “You're on thin ice, human.”

His tongue was dipping lower now, almost above T'Challa's groin. T'Challa's eyes widened as he realized what was going to happen.

“Can't you - can't you heal me some other way?” he asked desperately, his face heating up with embarrassment. He anxiously brought his thighs together as tightly as he could manage.

“Course I can. But it's more fun this way.” N'Jadaka's tone was smug and amused. “Legs apart now. Pull your knees up to your chest.”

“N'Jadaka!” T’Challa protested. “You're - you're a panther! Can’t you change back first? Please!”

“It’s more fun this way,” N’Jadaka repeated. There was a definite smirk on his face. T’Challa didn’t even know that panthers could smirk, but N’Jadaka was managing it.

The panther batted at T’Challa’s thigh with one large paw - claws retracted this time, thankfully. _“Now,”_ N’Jadaka growled, baring his sharp fangs at T'Challa.

T'Challa covered his face with his hands in mortification. Hesitantly, he drew his knees up to his chest, exposing himself to N'Jadaka.

He yelped and squirmed as the panther licked around his hole, teasing at the rim before delving his tongue in.

_“Ohh...”_

T'Challa slapped a hand over his mouth, but he couldn't stifle his loud moan. The delicious pleasure of a warm, wet tongue lapping into his hole, up his taint, his balls - he cried out loud and whimpered, toes curling as N’Jadaka’s tongue worked its magic, literally, on him.

It was so _wrong,_ but he couldn’t help the warm heat which was now spreading out throughout in his chest, a twin to the hot flush of shame in his cheeks. Part of him wanted to beg N’Jadaka to stop - his other wounds had been healed almost immediately once N’Jadaka’s licked them, so he _knew_ that N’Jadaka was drawing this out for his own twisted reasons - but the larger, baser part of him was enjoying this so much that he wanted it to go on forever.

He was already hard again, cock stirring to life under the panther’s skilled tongue. Tears of shame and pleasure burned in his eyes. The panther’s hot breath was warm against his groin, his soft fur tickled against T’Challa’s inner thighs, and ever so often, there would be a short, rumbling purr - all of which prevented T’Challa from forgetting that an _animal_ was doing this to him.

“I - _oh -_ we’re never telling anyone else about this. _Ever,”_ T’Challa said firmly, in between gasps, as N’Jadaka nuzzled into his groin. He couldn’t prevent himself from thrusting his hips into the panther’s mouth, humping upwards helplessly into the warm, wet heat.

N’Jadaka spread T’Challa’s knees wider apart with his paws, exposing him further. He licked a long stripe up T’Challa’s hard cock, tingling magic following in the wake of the panther’s tongue.

With a sobbing cry, T’Challa came so hard that his vision practically whited out. His entire body stiffened as pearly white come spurted onto his belly, painting stripes of white against his dark skin.

N’Jadaka licked it all up just like a cat lapping up cream, as T’Challa’s entire body flushed hot with humiliation.

When he was done, he snuggled up next to T’Challa, placing his folded paws on T’Challa’s chest. N’Jadaka rested his large furry head on his paws and blinked up at T’Challa with his bright golden eyes.

T’Challa hesitantly reached out to scratch behind the panther’s soft, furry ears. N’Jadaka closed his eyes in enjoyment and yawned, stretching out fully against T’Challa, before closing his eyes.

The sight of the panther’s sharp, curving fangs no longer scared T’Challa that badly. By now, he was _mostly_ sure that N’Jadaka wasn’t going to eat him.

Completely exhausted, T’Challa closed his eyes too and allowed his mind to drift off.

* * *

The first rays of the dawning sun filtered in through the stained glass windows of the temple, casting multi-coloured patches of light on the floor.

There was a strange shifting feeling beside T’Challa, nudging him awake. He stretched and yawned, his eyelids fluttering open.

There was a brief, temporary moment of disorientation, before the memory of last night came rushing back to T’Challa. His face heated up with embarrassment, and he looked around.

There was nobody beside him.

The panther - the _demon -_ was gone.

T’Challa’s heart momentarily dropped, before the realization finally sank into him _\- he had made it._

He had survived. He’d somehow managed to please N’Jadaka. N’Jadaka hadn’t eaten him.

He’d done it.

* * *

To everyone's delight, the Panther Tribe enjoyed a generation's worth of peace, prosperity and plentiful harvests.


End file.
